


A Reminder

by sinesofinsanity



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (2010)
Genre: Dragons, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:32:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinesofinsanity/pseuds/sinesofinsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Stoick forgets what Hiccup is capable of regarding dragon management.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Reminder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FishEyenoMiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishEyenoMiko/gifts).



> A little plot bunny that wouldn't hop away. :)
> 
> Thanks a ton to not_madeleine for beta and encouraging me to post.

Really, the ship wasn’t all that important. It was an ordinary fishing boat, same as all the others that the Vikings of Berk had used for three hundred years, except for the scorch marks. And the torn sail. And the broken mast. Actually, in a lot of ways it didn’t resemble the other fishing boats of Berk at all. The dragon and rider pulled out of their race around the cliffs and standing stone islands to take a look at the dilapidated ship. “They sure don’t make ‘em like they used to,” commented Hiccup, patting Toothless’s neck. “We should see if they need any help getting back to the village.”

“HICCUP!!”

The pair turned. When they’d stopped to look at the boat another pair had been able to catch up. A round boy riding a dragon that more accurately resembled a spiked mace than it did Toothless approached. If anyone could be said to be lumbering in flight, these two were doing so, wallowing through the air but seeming to belong there as surely as a seal was at home in the ocean.

“Hey Fishlegs, Meatlug.” Hiccup waved to the newcomers. Toothless greeted them with a nod, a hair less politely than his rider had done.

“Hiccup,” the boy gasped as though he’d just run very quickly, very suddenly, “Your dad wants you. He said you need to come right away.”

“Did he say what it’s about?”

“No, but he didn’t seem too happy about it.”

“Wonderful.” He patted Toothless’ neck, “Well, buddy, we better answer the chief’s summons. We can tell him about the ship at least.” The dragon replied with a noise that was somewhere between a whistle and a sigh and turned to dive toward the island, neither of them hearing Fishleg calling out a half-hearted, “Wait,” as he turned Meatlug to follow them.

* * *

 

Stoick the Vast was many things. He was Viking Chief of the Island of Berk, a position of great responsibility and service that included a seat on the council of chiefs—not that the chief from Berk had many chances to go to meet with other chiefs in between fighting dragons, but the seat was there if he ever chose to sit his vastness in it. He was a sailor, a warrior, a bereaved widower, a father, a mediator of village disputes, a builder when buildings were needed, a fighter when fighting was needed, a speaker when speeches were needed. One thing he was not was a babysitter for dragons.

“Hey Dad.” Hiccup landed nearby and jogged over. Toothless leapt onto a nearby building to watch the proceedings. “Before you get started I need to-“

“Hiccup, this has gone far enough.”

“I just got here.”

“Not that, that!” Stoick gestured toward a house. A mess of Terrible Terrors had swarmed it. They were darting in and out of windows, climbing the roof, and flying circles around the house’s owners who were chasing the small dragons, waving brooms in the air, and beating out small fires on the thatch roof. Five or six children had joined in to chase dragons but they seemed less interested in actually catching the small beasts.

Stoick rubbed his forehead. “How am I to keep dragons from pestering the village if no one wants to kill them anymore?”

“Dad, you can’t just kill them!” cried Hiccup, “They’re not trying to hurt anyone. They’re mischievous.”

“Did I not just say no one wants to kill them? No son, the old ways are gone and good riddance. But this?” A shriek came from the house. The Terrors had apparently found the fish that was to be the family’s supper and were squabbling over the food. All adults were now violently waving brooms or tossing nets at the creatures, ignoring the few small fires that still smouldered in the grass. “How are we to live with this on a daily basis?”

“Right,” the younger Viking nodded, “Okay, I’ll figure out a way to get them away from the house. But first, Dad I saw a s-“

“What? Hiccup, what do you think I called you here for? I need you to go and find Gobber so he can fix this.”

“But Dad, I’m right here. I know dragons. I can-“

“Son, you’re smart, and you’re clever, and you know Toothless,” he waved at the sleek black dragon who was following the Terrors’ antics with interest. “But this is a completely different breed of dragon. Nobody knows dragons like Gobber, even outside of killing them. I need him here to deal with this.”

“But Fishlegs said you needed me. Why didn’t you send him to find Gobber?”

“That boy couldn’t find snow in a blizzard. Toothless is the fastest dragon on the island and no one knows where Gobber is. We need him fast.” As if to emphasize the point, a Terror coughed and spat flame at a man who had caught it by the tail. The man jumped to avoid catching his beard on fire, but dropped the dragon onto the head of a young girl.

“But I’m the one who figured out-“

“End of discussion. There’s a reason Gobber is the dragon academy trainer. Now Ragnar’s been waving at me from the docks. I’ll leave this with you.” He turned to go.

“Wait, if you’re going to the docks, you should know-“

“Tell me later. Now hurry up!” For someone so vast, Stoick could move quickly when he needed to. He was gone before Hiccup finished calling after him.

“He never listens,” muttered the boy, turning back to the Terrible Terror problem. One of the children had managed to grab a Terror and was now hovering about a foot off the ground. The tiny dragon couldn’t support the weight for long and the two dropped in a heap on the ground, the child laughing, the dragon wheezing. Letting out a dragon chuckle, Toothless leapt from his perch and landed gently next to Hiccup, giving the boy a nudge on the shoulder as he did.

“Well, I guess we’re searching for Gobber, bud. He’s most likely sleeping, drinking, or smithying. I say we check out drinking first.”

Toothless shook his head.

“Not drinking? Are we talking about the same Gobber? Smithying then, but Dad will’ve checked the smithy ages ago.”

Toothless shook his head again, chirped, and butted Hiccup with his nose.

“Yeah, I know, but Dad wants Gobber to deal with this. I’m not going to disobey him just because I happen to know better.”

Toothless sat back and regarded his rider in frank disbelief.

“That made more sense my head than out loud,” admitted Hiccup. Toothless kept silent. “Okay, okay, fine, so what do we know about Terrible Terrors?” As one, the pair turned to look at the bedlam before them. A group of the Terrors had started a game of flying close to a broom-wielding Viking and darting backwards at the last second. One, briefly distracted by a stone on a necklace, received a solid whack for its fun.

“That’s it!” Hiccup swung onto the saddle. “Come on, Toothless. We’re going to the smithy.” If the dragon at all questioned the statement, it didn’t show as he flapped into the air.

* * *

 

It didn’t take them long to gather the supplies they needed. Soon they were back, hovering above the house.

“Hey,” yelled Hiccup. A couple of adults looked up; he tossed a package down to them. “You’ll need this. Wait until I give the signal.”

Only a couple of flaps were needed to bring them to the square in front of the house. “Ready? Okay, now!” Hiccup tore open the second package. Hundreds of obsidian chips, leftovers from Gobber’s latest project, flashed in the light as they scattered through the air and down to the ground. Instantly the Terrors flocked to the bits of shiny stone, pouncing on the flashiest pieces and squabbling over the largest ones. Any that had missed the initial surge followed quickly once the Vikings with brooms noticed that their prey had a new destination. Hiccup watched the whole scene from above. “Nets, go!”

One of the Vikings he’d talked to earlier ran forward and tossed a heavy fishing net onto the distracted creatures, the rest followed soon after. In no time at all the Terrors were secured. Vikings young and old cheered. One or two clapped Hiccup on the back or patted Toothless once they landed.

“What’s all this, then?” It was Gobber, his hand replaced by a wooden spoon. “What ‘ave these beasties been doing?”

“Well-“

“Gobber!” Stoick appeared from the path to the docks, a much beleaguered Ragnar behind him. “You’ve trapped the Terrors! Well done.”

“Wasn’t me, Stoick. I just got here.”

“Just got-? Gobber, where have you been all day? We had a whole mess of dragon problems and you’re the only one who can deal with them.”

Gobber moved the wooden spoon to his face, changed his mind, and stroked his chin with his right hand. “Looks to me, Stoick, like your boy here had everything under control.”

Stoick sputtered a bit, looking back and forth between Hiccup, who was still sitting astride Toothless, and the netted dragons. The crowd of Vikings were all nodding in agreement. For his part, Hiccup did his best to look unassuming but it came off more sheepish than anything. Toothless merely rolled his eyes at the lot of them.

“Well, of course he had everything under control!” roared Stoick striding over and clapping an enormous hand on Hiccup’s shoulder, “My son knows all about how to handle dragons! Figured out their weakness, didn’t ye boy?”

“Yeah, well-“

“In fact,” Stoick turned and gestured to Ragnar, who was standing miserably on the sidelines, “we came looking for Gobber, but we now have two dragon experts to help you with that beastie out by the West Bay.” Ragnar gave a half smile and Hiccup suddenly remembered the scorched ship that had been limping toward the village earlier. “What do you say, Hiccup, Gobber, Toothless? You up for stopping a skittish Zippleback?”

“Let’s go, bud.” Toothless trilled and leapt into the air, scattering the crowd of Vikings in his wake.


End file.
